


Hope

by one_way_ride



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, James is captured, Muggle War AU, quite sad to me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 10:31:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10092968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_way_ride/pseuds/one_way_ride
Summary: Hope is fleeting.





	

**Author's Note:**

> James is captured, and in his prison ponders the meaning of hope. Please review!

_Hope was but a timid friend;_  
_She sat without the grated den,_  
_Watching how my fate would tend,_  
_Even as selfish-hearted men._

_She was cruel in her fear;_  
_Through the bars, one dreary day,_  
_I looked out to see her there,_  
_And she turned her face away!_

_Like a false guard, false watch keeping,_  
_Still, in strife, she whispered peace;_  
_She would sing while I was weeping;_  
_If I listened, she would cease._

_False she was, and unrelenting;_  
_When my last joys strewed the ground,_  
_Even Sorrow saw, repenting,_  
_Those sad relics scattered round;_

_Hope, whose whisper would have given_  
_Balm to all my frenzied pain,_  
_Stretched her wings, and soared to heaven,_  
_Went, and ne'er returned again!_

* * *

James Potter sat on the hard, plain, cushionless chair in the middle of the bare room as he mused, _Hope is a strange thing._

To him, hope was his wife, steadfastly by his side as the war-torn world raged and crumbled around them; her emerald eyes determined and fiery locks asway as she moved, slim and graceful as the blossom she was named after.

Hope was his one-year-old son, with James's untamable hair and Lily's eyes. A pure, untainted infant that was too innocent to comprehend the trials and sorrows of the cruel world it was brought into.

Hope was the camaraderie he felt with his friends, knowing they'd die before betraying him. It was the laughter, the jokes, the feeling of never growing up that was scarce in times like these, when war forced them to grow up.

James leant his head back against the unyielding wood and replayed memories of childish gurgling and the melodious, tinkling laughter of the woman he loved. It all seemed aeons away. His struggles against the bonds of steel that constrained him were fruitless.

Hope was the lone firefly flitting among the dark, menacing-looking hedges in your backyard at night. And you watch, mesmerized, because only yesterday a horde of exterminators had scoured the area, armed with their ugly protective suits and massive, horrible spray guns. But that single bug, somehow, _somehow_ had survived, had escaped the fate of its perished brethren.

The ropes fell off his body one by one as James massaged his fingers that were red and raw from previous attempts at freeing himself. He felt the familiar warm spark of hope kindling in his heart. He could get out of this godforsaken prison. He would see _them_ again. Fighting his way through the unattentive night guards shouldn't prove much of a problem, and after that...sweet, sweet freedom, and his family back.

But any battle-hardened warrior knows that hope is fleeting.

Hope never lasts, because your next-door neighbour's little monster of a son will snap the lid shut on the jar he had used to trap the last firefly. And it is gone, never to flit in your hedges again.

James watched in silent resignation as the door creaked open slightly, just enough for a glittering silver egg to bounce once, twice, and roll to a halt at his feet.

All hope was lost.

_Now I lay me down to sleep..._

The grenade exploded.


End file.
